


fifty four

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (it's not about hurting), AU from season 4 I guess, Anal Fingering, Birthday Sex, Director Daisy Johnson, Dom Skye | Daisy Johnson, Established Relationship, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: “Fifty four is a lot of birthday spankings."





	fifty four

“Fifty four is a lot of birthday spankings,” Daisy says as she climbs out of the shower ahead of him, tossing him a towel and taking her own. It makes him smile because despite Daisy's assurances that she's going to make it a great day, he hasn't been looking forward to it, but when she frames it like that, it suddenly doesn't sound so bad to be turning fifty four.

“Hmm.” Coulson just makes a noise to nonchalantly agree, trying to not let on quite how much he likes the idea of being over Daisy's lap. Of getting fifty four birthday spankings from Daisy.

He does like it, though, and it's embarrassing that even though he came an hour ago, he can feel a thrill of arousal down his spine. She watches him while she dries herself off, arms raised so she can scrunch her towel through her hair; he watches her back too-intently without doing anything to dry himself — the way her breasts are upturned, the way her position emphasizes the dip of her waist, the way her legs look endless.

“You're really into it, aren't you?” She looks amused about it, but also interested, which makes it less horrifying to nod.

“I guess I am,” he says, actually a little surprised by how much the idea does for him. It's never exactly been his kink — not like he's opposed to it, just that it's never occurred to him that he might like it.

“Is that something you've done before? Like… gotten spanked?”

“No.” He pauses with his towel held against his chest, still naked in the shower, and watches as she presses her towel up and down her legs, now.

She stands and nods thoughtfully. It's still slightly awkward at points — when Daisy finds cause to ask these questions, when they approach all the side effects of him being so much older and having done so much more. (Of him turning fifty four today.) But it's also nice, more open and easy than he’s ever felt with someone.

“Why not? If you like the idea of it?”

“I'm not sure,” Coulson answers honestly, thinking back across past relationships. He's not into pain, which is probably most of it, but when he thinks about Daisy's hand on his ass, he doesn't imagine pain at all. “I don't think I would have wanted someone else to do it.”

Daisy smiles — he loves this one, loves the way she looks knowing and sexy and excited.

“So when do you want your spankings, then?”

Coulson feels the rush of arousal through his body, the flow of blood to his cock. He swallows, tries to push it even a little bit down, but can't manage more than a shrug. His cheeks burn, and he feels his nakedness as she watches him, even though she's equally naked.

“Before your cake tonight?” Daisy's looking remarkably calm and collected about it, maybe a little gleeful, as she makes the suggestion, and it makes him feel extra bashful.

“Where are we going to be for cake tonight?”

“That's classified,” she teases, but then relents. “We have a hotel room outside the city.”

He nods, enticed by the promise of a hotel room — of sex in a hotel room — even though their room on base is perfectly nice. Even though they had sex here last night. And again this morning.

“Before cake sounds good.”

He nods matter-of-factly, climbs out of the shower like they've just set a mission briefing and not like they've just agreed that she'll give him fifty four birthday spankings tonight.

“Come on, I got you donuts,” Daisy tells him, stopping long enough to pinch his ass, giggling a little as she slips out of the bathroom.

* * *

 

“I really enjoyed today,” he whispers into her mouth, the words mostly lost in between kisses.

“Me, too,” she says, accompanied by hands that wander down his back to his butt, definitely out of the realm of publicly acceptable places.

She pulls back and waves their keycard over the door, grinning at him as the lock clicks and she turns the door handle. He'd been impressed when she'd walked into the hotel without even stopping at the front desk, impressed by a lot of her plans today and of the way it seems like the whole world is catering to her, to them. (“I'm the Director of SHIELD,” she had said by way of explanation, though he's pretty sure she wouldn't need those connections to still get most anything she wanted.) She's planned out every stop today in a way that reveals how much thought and preparation she put into everything, and it feels surprisingly good. He hasn't ever been much about birthdays, has _really_ not been about this one, but being at the center of Daisy's plans, being her sole focus for the day, makes it seem not bad at all.

They step inside the room, and he's surprised by how large it is — a suite with a breakfast area and a seating area and a king bed visible around the corner, reflected in a mirror.

“It’s nice,” Coulson tells her as he takes in the suite, and as they walk inside and see the small cake already sitting on a kitchenette table, he thinks birthdays might actually be pretty great.

“Yeah,” Daisy agrees, though it's clear she's already well aware of that. As though she was just waiting for him to look his fill at the room she'd gotten them, she wraps her fist in his tie and pulls him into another kiss.

He can't help but smile into it, loving the feel of her fingers working open the knot at his neck, of her eagerness to strip him down. It's clear that she's prepared to take a strong upper-hand tonight, and it's easy to relax into her touch in response. She pulls back once she's gotten his tie and his jacket off, once he's ruffled and completely aroused, and he chases her lips for one last kiss before she pulls away.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” Daisy says, with somewhat more purpose than asking, though not quite an order.

And, well, he has no reason to do otherwise, so he moves quickly — shirt and shoes and pants tossed aside, until he's naked under Daisy's quietly pleased gaze. She strips more slowly, down to lacy black panties and a matching bra, the kind of thing that’s meant to be seen, and then stares at him for a moment like she's making complex calculations.

“Do you still want…” She pauses, rolls her eyes quietly to herself. Daisy's a fascinating paradox in moments like this, he thinks, confident and charmingly shy in almost the same breath.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I don't want it hard, but yeah. I think I'd like you to spank me.”

She nods. “I won't hurt you."

“I know,” he says, feeling remarkably relaxed about the whole thing.

Daisy smiles at him and leans in to kiss him once, twice, so he can feel the shape of her smile against his lips.

“You should shower,” Daisy says, a little more asking in her voice this time. And the thing is, he knows what it means, knows what she's asking, so he nods eagerly.  

He's quick in the shower — soap and water and his hands straying just a little more than necessary to his cock — filled with thoughts of Daisy’s hands on him, Daisy's fingers in him, when he's done. Usually, she’d join him. Usually it would be her fingers spending too much time with soap in nice places, but when they do more play with it — nights like tonight when she’s clearly trying to tap into her inner dominatrix — she often likes to take a few minutes to center herself.

Once he climbs out of the shower, Coulson’s quicker with the white hotel towel, patting down his body before padding back through the suite to the bedroom where Daisy is waiting on the edge of the bed — still in her black underthings. He’s worried for a moment that she’s too nervous for this, and then she smiles at him, rises from the bed, and takes the few necessary steps to pull his mouth against hers. She’s aggressive — tongue practically taking ownership of his mouth, teeth pressing to his lower lip — and he lets himself sort of melt into her, lets himself be kissed.

“I think I figured out the best way to do this,” she says, her fingers still curved around his neck to hold his mouth close to hers.

He nods and lets himself be led over to the bed, watches as Daisy takes a seat and then slides back from the edge so her feet are propped on the frame of the bed and there's an obvious stretch of lap where he can lie down. There's a frisson of nerves in his belly, a slight tremble in his legs as  he watches her finish situating herself. She nods at him, and he climbs up on the bed and settles himself across her lap.

“Okay?” Her voice is calm, and paired with her hand moving softly across his ass, it works to settle him.

“Yeah.” He's feeling _really_ okay with her fingernails tracing soft patterns on his skin.

“If you feel like you're not okay—"

“I’m going to be fine,” he says because the fact is that he's not the only one stretching the limits of his kink experience and he knows she needs the reassurance.

“But if you're not, just say stop.”

“If I'm not okay, I'll say stop,” he agrees, wiggles his hips just a little to encourage her to keep touching him, gets a small squeeze in return.

“The website I read today said that we should agree about how hard before I start,” Daisy tells him, sounding a lot more comfortable now that they're in the moment, now that she's in charge. He smiles, presses his face into the bed for a moment, because of course Daisy would find time to research and read up on how to best give a spanking.

Her hand falls over his ass, a very soft smack with no sting.

“Harder than that,” he answers immediately, and Daisy laughs and gives him another — it doesn't hurt but there's a little sting after.

“Was that good?” Her fingers go back to tracing shapes across his ass, up and down just between the cheeks and he sighs into it, wiggling to open himself up as much as he can. It takes him a moment to remember that he's meant to be talking.

“I think harder.”

“Don't forget they'll add up, and I don't want to hurt you.” She lifts her fingers away from his skin, like she's figured out that it's a distraction.

He swallows and nods into the mattress, putting his mind back on the subject at hand.

“Let me feel a little harder?”

He can feel Daisy brace herself, and then the sting of her hand on his ass — not hard by any stretch, but enough that he feels it after, warm and tingling and nice. His hips seem to move of their own volition, circling over her lap, his cock rubbing against her thigh where it's trapped.

“You liked that,” Daisy says, to which Coulson moans his agreement.

“Maybe you can work up to that?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and he can hear the deep, steadying breath above him. “First ten, okay?”

He nods, eager now for more, and is almost disappointed when her hand falls more softly. She's right, though, that it builds, and by her sixth smack, he feels the warmth again, is again disappointed when she pauses at ten.

“More,” he says before she can ask, and she does more, letting her hand fall a little harder so that the warmth builds to a sting. When she stops after the next ten, he lets out a breath.

“Was that too hard?”

When her fingertips smooth along his skin this time, it feels extra-sensitive, and he can't hold back a moan.

“Not too hard,” he says, again shifting his hips to encourage her touch over more of his ass. She obliges, letting her fingers drift between his cheeks as much as she can, teasing him so he's almost vibrating in her lap.

“Next ten a little softer, okay?”

“Yes,” he agrees, but groans a little when she pulls her hand back. They reposition, and her hand falls across his ass again — softer, but building on the heat he already feels, creating an almost fascinating peak of pleasure, his entire focus on his ass. She reaches this count of ten and it feels too soon; he's not ready for it to stop.

“I'm going to keep going,” she says, like it’s not quite a question.

“Yes,” he grunts, pleased beyond words that she gets it, and her hand falls a little faster. It's a struggle to keep his hips still, to keep from wiggling against her, not because he wants her to stop, just because he finds himself full of energy and not sure what to do with it.

When she reaches the end of her next set and pauses, he groans — not sure if he's sad she's pausing or that there are only fourteen more. He wouldn’t mind more than fourteen more, he thinks.

“You wish you were older, don't you?” She’s laughing above him, and it strikes him how much he'd like to see her face — to kiss her. But her fingers are drifting over his sensitive skin again and he just moans into the mattress, moves his hips to meet the careful movements of her hands.

“It’s one positive to getting older,” he says, quiet agreement as he arches into her touch.

Her hand disappears for a moment, and then her moistened finger presses against him, just barely inside him, and he could almost come apart. Just as quickly as the touch had come, it's gone.

“Sorry,” Daisy says, half-laughing. “I got ahead of myself.” Again, he wishes he could see her face, wonders if he's right that this is turning her on, too. The backs of her fingernails drag lightly across his ass, and he moans into it, presses against her.

“I really want you to kiss me,” Coulson says, and she moans and draws her nails further up his spine in order to tug him up towards her. It's awkward for a moment, fumbling to twist and turn and bend to reach her mouth, and then none of that matters because she's kissing him — hard, with her tongue in his mouth — and he's groaning desperately.

“Do you want to finish?” Daisy asks between kisses, between her tongue against the roof of his mouth and then dragging along his lip.

“Yes,” he answers easily, though he can't seem to stop chasing her lips, open-mouthed and desperate for more.

He finally breaks from her not because he finds the willpower to stop kissing her, but because he can't breathe in the position he's twisted himself into, still half-sprawled and bent across her lap.

“Last fourteen,” Daisy says, her hand resting back over his ass, and he's practically vibrating with built-up energy.

“Yes,” he agrees, no longer sure whether he wishes there were more or if he wishes they were done so he could be stretched out beneath Daisy, her whole body pressed to his.

“Just a few more minutes,” she says, as though she understands exactly where his head is. He nods desperately and braces himself for her hand landing on his ass again, for the sting and the warmth and the way his skin feels starved for her. Her left arm stretches across his lower back so she can grip his hip, holding him in place and making him realize how much he's squirming in her lap, and then she starts again.

It comes slower — much more space between each slap than she's been allowing — and the anticipation adds another layer of sensation, pulling his entire focus down to his ass. He counts along with her, still not sure whether he's anticipating or dreading it being over, almost trembling as she slows even more on the final four.

“Fifty-four,” Daisy says, announcing that she's done, and Coulson exhales out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He can feel Daisy shift underneath him, seeming just as impatient as he is, so he's not surprised when she tugs him up — a messy tangle of arms and legs until she's pinned him underneath her.

“Hi,” Daisy says once she's climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and he laughs because he doesn't know what to say. She kisses him, catches his smiling lip between her teeth for a moment, and then pulls back. “That was fun.”

“For me, too.”

She sort of collapses into him, pressing all of her mostly bare skin against his, and he gladly wraps his arms around her, pushes up against her just as much.

“I didn't know I'd like it that much,” she says, between deep, slow kisses as her leg insinuates itself between his and he can feel her — hot and wet — even through the panties she still wears. And suddenly of all the things he wants — Daisy over him and around him and inside him — he wants to go down on her, to make her come, even more.

She giggles at his sudden insistence in slipping his fingers between her legs, then moans and relaxes into his hand. He's already managed to slide most of the way down her body before she grips the back of his neck with soft but insistent fingers.

“It's your birthday,” she reminds him, though her hips pulse against his fingers pressed between her thighs, “this is supposed to be about you.”

He nods once.

“I really want to go down on you,” he says, leans down to press a kiss over her panties as though to demonstrate.

She laughs, a slight quiver of her belly, and releases his neck, leaves him to slide the rest of the way down the mattress and kiss her over black lace again, this time so he can taste her.

Daisy's helpful in getting her panties off and opening for him — she sighs happily into it as he leans over her, pressing a kiss to her thigh and then dragging his tongue across her. Even if he wants to take his time, he can see the tension built up in her body, so he presses his tongue against her, pushes his fingers inside of her, and she's quickly groaning above him.

She comes so easily — she's so wet and so worked up — and Coulson's almost disappointed when she flips their positions, forcing him onto his back. As he watches, though, she pulls off her bra, leaving her naked on top of him, pinning him to the bed. Nothing could be disappointing about that, he thinks.

Daisy’s lips are careful but insistent over him, pressing to his mouth and his chest and his stomach and his cock, while Coulson just thrashes a little on the bed. It's when she pushes his knees towards his chest that he drops back into his body, suddenly hyper aware of each move she makes.

“You’re all pink,” she says, fingers tickling lightly over the results of her spanking, still sensitive from before in a way that makes each touch feel magnified.

“It feels good,” he says about his ass, about her fingers tracing delicate patterns over his skin.

Her lips follow, Daisy curled down on the bed to reach him, and he tugs at his knees to open himself up to her lips and then her tongue pushing against him — inside of him. It's warm and soft and gentle shivers up his spine, almost too good, even before her finger presses inside of him, her lips moving up his thigh as she increases gentle pressure.

“Good?”

He nods adamantly. “More.”

She reaches over him to a bottle of lube he hadn't noticed before, and suddenly her fingers are moving deeper, faster, fucking him so he's almost senseless under her. He has just enough wherewithal to tug her mouth down to his, to let her adjust them so she can kiss him just as deep as her fingers move.

“Ready?” She asks the question into his mouth and he nods, more than ready to fall apart underneath her.

The vibrations, her powers, start slow and gentle, almost a tickle, that builds until he's coming so hard he can't see, so his whole world is Daisy's fingers inside him, Daisy's mouth over his.

After, she rolls them, lets him curl into her and collapse, ignoring everything but her body against his.

“Wow,” he mumbles into her neck sometime later, when he's more aware of where they are and the stickiness of his come between them.

Daisy laughs, fingers stroking through his hair, and he feels self-conscious for a moment, of having been seen — even by Daisy — so open and vulnerable. And then she presses a kiss to his temple and it passes.

“You liked turning fifty four,” she teases because of course she's caught on to his self- consciousness about his age, about the reminder of it, especially now that they're together. Of course that's been her goal today, to make him enjoy it without thinking too much about the baggage that comes with it.

“I did,” he agrees, turns his head to kiss her back — her cheek and her nose and finally her lips. “Thank you.”

She smiles and settles them, her hands stroking over his back, now, so he could almost fall asleep.

“We still have cake,” she reminds him, and he smiles, can't seem to stop smiling.

“Are you going to fit fifty four candles on it?”

“I'm gonna try.”


End file.
